Great Shot!
by QueenPersephoneofHades
Summary: They both have incredible aim; regardless, they both missed the target by a mile. SKYSOLO WEEK 2016
1. Day 1: Trapped

Blaster fire had long ago become a very familiar sound to Han Solo, ever since his early days knocking heads together in every cantina from here to Corellia, way back before he'd ever heard of the Millennium Falcon or dreamed of flying her as his own.

Back then, the gun's sharp rapport had caused him no small amount of grief, as typical fistfights quickly escalated into all out war in a matter of seconds after only a single shot was fired, the frenzied clamor and the high whine of multiple shots that followed making his ears ring terribly for some time after he managed to sneak away from the fight with his pockets heavy with goods he'd managed to slip from their outraged owners' pockets.

But, despite the many amusing and somewhat sordid tales such brawls had given him, those experiences did very little to truly prepare him for _actual_ combat, with Imperial Stormtroopers on every side and a whole lot of good people counting on you to hold them back.

He knew he should have packed up his rewards and flown off when he had the chance.

Rebel Alliances and their frequent skirmishes with the Empire did not a rich man make, as it turned out.

Luckily, unlike in the past, this time he had some backup; and while the nameless Rebel soldiers were always nice to have with him, he was referring mainly to his shaggy co-pilot currently snarling his displeasure at the situation very loudly, and the kid - _young man,_ he kept insisting - who'd dragged them into this mess in the first place.

The most marked difference between past and present wasn't the addition of allies, however; it was the _weapons._

While Han and Chewbacca and the other Rebel shmucks had standard blasters to fight with, they had absolutely nothing on what Luke was wielding.

A lightsaber - the mystical weapon of the fallen Jedi Order - whizzing back and forth in a haze of blue, deflecting blaster shots like it was a walk in the park.

Whether or not he'd admit it, Han couldn't deny there was a certain style to the blade, and certain refinement, that made the wild shooting going back and forth between sides look rather... sloppy. Maybe that old Wizard from Tatooine had known a thing or two when he said they were elegant.

But now was not the time to reminisce about crazy old men and hokey religions; the flashing cerulean blade was a huge difference from the usual flying red bolts of deadly energy, and so the blue lightshow had become the biggest target on this entire battlefield.

Normally, this wouldn't have bothered Han; anything that drew the worst fire away from him was usually pretty useful.

The fact that it was _his friend_ that was drawing that much attention- well. That just wouldn't do at all.

Luckily for Luke, Han knew his way around ducking behind cover and running through blaster fire; he managed to get close enough to the young Jedi wannabe that he got to drag him back behind cover with him.

"What are you doing?! I was fine!" the blonde protested immediately, struggling out of the older man's grip.

"You were about to be massacred, is what you were doing! Don't forget, kid, I saw you with the training droid; I know how well you deflect multiple shots coming at you!" Han snapped back, for once not trying for a joke. They were pinned down here; if something clever didn't present itself soon, they wouldn't be able to escape before Imperial reinforcements arrived.

With a sullen expression, Luke pulled out his own blaster as Han turned back to the battle, aiming and firing as well as he could from the awkward angle the two of them were at.

"Well, this is another _fine_ mess you've gotten us into!" The kid snipped, ducking a shot that likely would have taken his head off.

The comment was almost enough to make Han's steady aim falter as he sent an incredulous glare at his counterpart. "What?! Hey- it's not _my_ fault! _You_ were supposed to study the holomaps!"

Luke look absolutely indignant. "I _did!_ Remember? When I reminded you about the _huge_ Imperial blockade? And you said, ' _don't worry, kid! We won't be anywhere **near** that!_'"

Han did not appreciate the mocking tone, thank you oh-so much, and he made sure Luke knew about it too. "My voice does _not_ like that!" he protested.

"Uh, yeah, it kinda does. I hear it every day, I know how you sound!" Luke countered, and _hell,_ that was a nice shot he just made. It _almost_ made up for the complete lack of respect he'd shown Han. Oh wait; no it didn't.

"I'll have you know that I have a lovely voice!" Han retorted.

Luke scoffed. "Oh, I _know_ you do, but now doesn't seem to be the time to start singing opera!"

Any comeback he would have made seemed to get scrambled up in Han's brain - Luke thought he had a lovely voice? - but luckily his distraction didn't get him killed.

On the contrary, the sudden roar of ship sublights and the echo of ship cannons firing seem to take up far more of the Imp's attention than they did.

Luke made a grab for Han's arm. "We can make it to Falcon while Leia covers us, come on!"

Han managed to stir himself into action at that, long years of running from Imps and debt collectors giving him a natural instinct to escape any unpleasant situations at the drop of a hat.

But - and he wouldn't admit this to anyone, especially not himself - the thought of Luke thinking his voice was lovely stayed with him long after the Falcon had roared away into the darkness of space.

* * *

 **A/N: WELCOME TO SKYSOLO WEEK, MY FRIENDS! Yes that's right; I ship Han Solo and Luke Skywalker and I don't fuckin care what anyone has to say about it.  
This one is kind of lame and cheesy, I will admit. I'm pressed for time and kind of forgot to write until the last second, so you'll have to live with that. Oh well; hope you liked it anyway! See you tomorrow!  
~Persephone  
**


	2. Day 2: Smirk

If you were to ask anyone in the Alliance who they thought was the most attractive out of the well-known duo Skywalker and Solo, most would answer: Solo.

They didn't have anything against Luke, of course, but there was a certain thing about the daring smuggler's rugged good looks and overwhelming layers of charm that attracted people - men, women, and alien alike - to him like water to a vaporator.

And so, while women swooned and men sighed in admiration, the vote would be near unanimous: Han Solo was an incredibly good-looking human male, and anyone would feel very lucky indeed to date him.

Hell, Han Solo agreed with this sentiment, and he made no attempt to keep it a secret; he knew he looked good, and he flaunted that fact any chance he got, whether it was to settle a deal with a lovely crime lord or to squeeze a few extra credits out of his customers. His favorite pastime as of late was teasing - read, antagonizing - the great Princess Leia Organa about her attraction to his handsome features, and though she denied it at every turn, he knew he made her flustered when he really worked for her attention.

And he was quite happy to remain the most appealing member of the Rebel Alliance's celebrities - a.k.a. the top 10 most wanted people in the entire Empire - except, well...

He wasn't. Not really, anyway.

Oh sure, more than half the Alliance - and even some no-name soldiers in the Empire - still considered Solo to be the most attractive Rebel in the galaxy, but Han - privately - had to admit he'd lost the title a long time ago.

It was all Luke's fault, of course.

The damn kid was already unnaturally appealing to anyone who bothered to really look; sun-bright gold blonde hair, soulful blue eyes, the strange sort of simple farm boy innocence that hadn't faded away despite the trials he'd recently faced as both a Rebel and a Jedi-in-training, and enough passionate belief in the Alliance and the inherent good of the galaxy to make any person tear up a little - whether in awe of his conviction or in awe of his seeming stupidity depended entirely on the person he was talking to.

His apparent easy charisma had already won him more than a few admirers throughout the Alliance's ranks, though he seemed to remain completely oblivious to this fact.

But whether he was oblivious to them or not, they existed, and absolutely _no one_ was allowed to know Han Solo was one of them.

Yes, it was true: Han Solo thought Luke Skywalker was attractive. There, he admitted it; not out loud to anyone, but the thought was there and therefore it was close enough to a confession to count as one.

He wasn't really sure how it happened; when they first met in that cantina on the accursed dustball that was Tatooine, Han had only taken cursory notice of the kid's physical appearance; cute - some might even say 'pretty' - and full of plenty potential to grow into his looks, but so ignorant to the way the galaxy actually worked outside of his tiny sphere of experience that he might as well kiss his life goodbye the second he left the planet.

Crazily enough, that had been one of the reasons why Han was so reluctant to accept his and Old Ben's request for escape; Tatooine was hellhole, sure, but there was no way the kid would last long out there in Empire controlled space.

But then there was the offer of _seventeen thousand credits,_ and one kid's sacrifice didn't seem like too bad of a price to get it.

And then there was Alderaan, the Death Star, their capture, the Princess, the trench run, and everything in between; there was little time for chitchat, let alone admiring how far Luke had come into his own or how quickly he'd grown up in the span of what felt like days.

There was just too much to do, what with constantly fleeing the Empire and setting up new bases and then tearing those bases down and packing up and running away again, rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat, over and over.

But when things finally slowed down, when the Rebel scouts has been sent out to look for a ne base yet again, and Han had - rather graciously - offered his services, Luke had volunteered to go with him while Chewie was headed back home to Kashyyyk to get some supplies to his people.

"Don't you have your own ship to hijack nowadays?" Han had teased him, leaning at the top of the Falcon's entry ramp and striking a rather impressive figure if he said so himself.

The eye-roll he got as a reply made a rather suspicious warm feeling fill his stomach. "My X got pretty beat up in that run past Pantora, it'll take a while to repair the damage completely. And besides, don't _you_ need a co-pilot?" The younger man countered, already trotting up the ramp without permission.

 _Cheeky bastard._ He knew the Falcon needed two to pilot, and of course without Chewie around, there was no one else on base that Han trusted to be his second.

Han thought the glare he gave him was one of his best. "Don't push your luck, kid. One of these days someone's gonna knock the wind right out of your sails, and it will be a glorious day indeed. I'll even record it all, make a few million credits when I sell it to the Empire. I can see it now: 'Kid Who Destroyed Death Star Rightfully Gets His Ass Handed to Him'. I bet the Emperor would love to see that."

And that's when it happened.

That _smirk._

Looking up through his too-long bangs, eyes playfully hooded and mouth pulled into the darkest mischievous expression one could imagine, Luke Skywalker looked far sexier than any two-bit half-trained farm boy had any right to look.

 _What the **kriff.**_

Han was so distracted for a second he didn't realize Luke was responding until he caught the end of it, "-'m sure they'd love to see the guy who blew up their greatest super weapon be completely humiliated, but now's not the time; Leia told me one of the best options seemed to be the Hoth system, but I'm not sure our tech will be able to survive such freezing temperatures-"

He continued to ramble about mission parameters and base requirements as he headed farther into the Falcon, but Han had stopped listening by then, leaving him to stand stock-still at the top of the boarding ramp, completely floored.

 _What the **kriffing hell-**_

His malfunctioning brain was abruptly turned back on by a cylindrical metal body purposefully bumped into him; he looked down to find R2-D2 staring up at him, beeping at him questioningly.

Han didn't have a very deep connection to the droid, but Artoo wasn't as annoying as Threepio, and so that earned the lil guy some extra points.

With a loud sigh, he dropped a hand to tentatively pat the droid's head. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just-" he gestured vaguely toward the inside of the ship, at a loss for words. "... Skywalkers," he finally decided. The one word seemed the only thing he could say.

The sympathetic beeps from Artoo suggested that the droid understood him completely.

* * *

 **A/N: I bet you were all expecting Han's smirk to be super-sexy. It is. I know it is. But I thought, 'what the hell, why not make Luke the sexy one for once?' And so I DID. Also, Artoo isn't saying he finds Luke attractive; the reason he understands poor Han's problem is because Padme used to get similarly flustered with Anakin :3  
Alright, day two finished! Hope you enjoyed! See you tomorrow!  
~Persephone  
**


	3. Day 3: Nosy

It's not like Chewbacca _wanted_ to spy on them. They just... weren't subtle.

Sure, they certainly toned things down when they were on base or had Threepio and Princess Organa with them, but later, once they were all aboard the Falcon and a new mission into Imperial territory was set before them, the humans would... well... _stare._ At each other. For a lot longer than was really necessary, in Chewie's opinion.

Han was a sensible man - one of the few Humans the Wookie had any sort of respect for - and tended to focus on the job more than was strictly healthy for a lone sentient to handle, but around Luke he just-

Lost his senses, apparently.

Chewie has seen them interact time and time again - far more than anyone else, probably - and always, _always_ there was the staring, and the touching, and the long silences that should have been awkward but weren't. There were even a few times when one or the other seemed to stop breathing for a moment, heartbeat kicking up a notch when their eyes met.

It was ridiculously easy to see what they thought of each other, and Chewie was determined to stay out of it; Human mating rituals were not his area of expertise. He'd leave all that fun to the others, while he wandered off to repair another ailing part of the Falcon.

Or at least, he _would_ stay out of it... if they weren't so kriffing _stupid._

Yes, there were hundreds of stares and touches and words that could be borderline confessions that popped up rather frequently, but neither Han nor Luke seemed to realize their feelings were completely reciprocated.

It was _maddening,_ being stuck on a ship in the middle of space with only a couple of oblivious love-struck humans and an astromech droid, but it was inescapable; if Chewie wanted to continue working with his partner, then he'd have to learn to endure the weirdness as best he could.

Easier said than done; being trapped in the co-pilot's seat while the duo had another weird-but-not stare-down was anything but fun in the moment, though it could be used as blackmail for a later date if need be.

Still, he never meant to snoop, and therefore it was entirely _not_ Chewbacca's fault when he found them tangled together in the galley, arms around each other and lips locked together so fiercely it was a wonder that their teeth weren't gouging into each other.

With the patience of a saint, Chewie immediately spun around in the doorway before he could be noticed and began walking away, shaking his great furry head in exasperation.

The astromech Artoo rolled around a corner, beeping inquisitively at the Wookie's irate retreat. A sound not completely unlike a moan answered him from the galley, and the droid made a whistle of understanding, as if this was no surprise to him.

' _Humans,_ ' the Wookie and droid silently shook their heads helplessly in mutual disbelief.

* * *

 **A/N: This is short and stupid, but today hasn't been a great day for me, so I guess you'll have to live with it. See ya.  
~Persephone  
**


	4. Day 4: Regret

The Falcon was the best possible place they could have had this conversation; it was the most private place available, and Chewie just so happened to be out and about right now.

"You finished saying good-bye?" Luke couldn't help but ask, fighting the urge to shift on his feet like a teenager again; it had been years since he'd felt this awkward in Han Solo's presence, and he was _not_ going to show it now of all times.

Han's face is neutral, though Luke can't help but wince slightly at the guilt and discomfort roiling through the older man. "Yeah, just about. He's still with Leia, and he already hugged me so I thought-" he gestured vaguely with one hand, uncertainty masked by indifference.

No matter how many years past and no matter what either twin said to the contrary, Han was still absolutely convinced fatherhood did not suit him, despite his remarkable efforts for it to be otherwise.

A sad smile creases Luke's face, and he gently touches Han's shoulder. "I'll look after him. I'll guard him with my life. I promise."

At any other time, Han would have laughed at the blonde's utter seriousness; now, he clears his throat, blinking rapidly as if he has something in his eyes.

Before he even knows what happened, Luke finds himself in a tight one-armed hug, a hand pounding his back rather roughly. "Yeah, well, make sure to guard your own life too, kid," Han says gruffly, and there's a suspicious burning at the back of Luke's eyes - he doesn't know why, Ben was going to do fine - as his smile slips into something a little bit cocky, like back in the old days.

"I'll be fine, of course; not many people left who think it's wise to challenge a Jedi Master to a fight," he points out, and the scoff Han makes is laced with scorn.

"Miracle of miracles, people aren't as stupid as they look-"

But as he's saying that he pulls back a bit from the hug, and suddenly their faces are only inches apart for the first time in years and Luke can't breathe.

Han's eyes dance across his quickly flushing face, familiar arrogant smirk absent as his gaze drops to his lips and the _anticipation_ hits Luke like a sledgehammer.

"Han, wait-" But he needn't have bothered; no matter their former trysts before the fall of the Empire, Han is now a married man - married to Luke's _sister_ , of all people - and while he is a liar and a swindler, Han Solo is still a man of honor... when it suits him, of course.

So the kiss he presses to the corner of Luke's mouth is chaste and brief, barely there for perhaps a second or two, no more, the definition of innocent and unassuming.

But for Luke, the contact is _scalding._

His eyes slam shut as an image - a flicker, there and gone again faster than the kiss had been - appears before him; _Han, face lined with wrinkles and hair elegantly silver, outlined in red light and grimacing in pain, tears glistening in his eyes as his hand lifted beseechingly-_

He pulls backward with a shallow gasp, and two strong hands grip his arms, grounding him in the moment, the reality in front of him washing the image away as quickly as it had appeared.

"Luke? What-" Han's question cuts off as distant eyes dart over his body, taking in the young flesh and brown hair with a relief that seems fit to drown him completely.

 _A vision. But what-?_

A finger presses against his lips before he can even begin to theorize out loud; surprised, he focuses on Han's young, untroubled visage, uncomprehending of the soft, relaxed set to Han's mouth.

"Kid, whatever it was... I don't want to know."

* * *

He didn't tell him.

He wishes he had.

* * *

 **A/N: This whole thing is my friend Rie's fault; she came up with this awful concept and inspired me to write this godawful angst bucket. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to curl up in a ball and cry.  
~Persephone  
**


End file.
